


here we are, just the same

by kiroiimye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Mutual Pining, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Pining Kindaichi Yuutarou, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 20:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiroiimye/pseuds/kiroiimye
Summary: Iwaizumi blinks, somewhat startled by Yuutarou’s blunt response, and he gets to his feet. Yuutarou’s 190 centimeters towers over Iwaizumi’s 179 centimeters, and yet the ace is so much more intimidating, so much more of a presence, than Yuutarou could ever dream of being. Before he can process Iwaizumi’s movements, the third year ace claps him on the back, friendly and firm.“Sorry for intruding. I’ll take my leave now,” he says easily, turning his back on the pond and Yuutarou can’t help but curse his stupid self.“Wait!” he shouts, louder than he expects, and Iwaizumi stops in his tracks. Clearing his throat, Yuutarou shoves his hands into his pockets. “You can stay. I don’t mind sharing. With you,” he adds quickly (shit, why did he say that? He’d share his place with anyone, not just Iwaizumi).Iwaizumi stumbles upon Yuutarou’s secret thinking spot by chance, and keeps coming back.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kindaichi Yuutarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	here we are, just the same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lozza342](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lozza342/gifts).

_ Summer comes, winter fades, and here we are, just the same. _

* * *

The pond is supposed to be Yuutarou’s space, or so he believes. He had found the place when he was ten years old, long before his obsession of volleyball, when he was young and naive and still in love with the idea of adventures in the wilderness. 

It was an area tucked into a glade of evergreen trees and long green grass and Yuutarou finds himself entranced with it; it’s nothing but tranquil and his abundance of childish energy seemed to calm when he was there. 

Often, he would find himself in the grass, back flat against the ground and looking up at the shaded sky. The light swayed with the wind and whistling leaves and an ocean of blue peeked beneath the eyes of the trees. 

Sometimes it’s a day of blowing off steam and boundless energy and he would find himself swimming in the pond, despite the dirt and plant growth that grew below. The water, the grass, the glade--it’s all grounding to him, a way to return to earth when he was too high in the sky. 

The glade was an escape for him, a way out of the trappings of school, the unbending rules of his home, and eventually, the harshness of his volleyball coaches.

It was Yuutarou’s place ever since he was a child, and he didn’t really care for sharing it to others. 

Or so he thought.

-

It’s a cold spring day when Yuutarou finds Iwaizumi crouched by the pond and the sight of his senpai shakes him like a quake. 

“Iwaizumi-senpai?” he yelps, stumbling backwards and almost falling over his own feet. Yuutarou has admittedly never been the most graceful on his feet--that had always belonged to his dancing sister--and he finds himself especially clumsy around his senpai, his team’s ace. 

“Oh, Kindaichi.” Yuutarou’s family name rolls off Iwaizumi’s tongue like a perfect song, in all baritone and bass, and he has to swallow the lump in his throat. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

“It’s my place,” he blurts out (god, even his tongue is loose and clumsy around Iwaizumi). “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”

Iwaizumi blinks, somewhat startled by Yuutarou’s blunt response, and he gets to his feet. Yuutarou’s 190 centimeters towers over Iwaizumi’s 179 centimeters, and yet the ace is so much more intimidating, so much more of a presence, than Yuutarou could ever dream of being. Before he can process Iwaizumi’s movements, the third year ace claps him on the back, friendly and firm. 

“Sorry for intruding. I’ll take my leave now,” he says easily, turning his back on the pond and Yuutarou can’t help but curse his stupid self. 

“Wait!” he shouts, louder than he expects, and Iwaizumi stops in his tracks. Clearing his throat, Yuutarou shoves his hands into his pockets. “You can stay. I don’t mind sharing. With you,” he adds quickly (shit, why did he say that? He’d share his place with anyone, not _ just _Iwaizumi). 

Iwaizumi blinks at him, his dark eyes startled, but a warm grin breaks across his face and he ambles back to his place at the edge of the pong. “Thanks, Kindaichi.”

“No problem.”

And that’s the end of it. The conversation cut short, an awkwardness creeps up on them, slotting itself into the calming atmosphere and building a barrier between them. Yuutarou’s heart rate has increased, pounding so hard he thinks it’ll fly out (he doesn’t quite understand why he’s so nervous; it’s just Iwaizumi), and he breathes in and out a few times to steady himself, before turning his head towards his teammate.

Iwaizumi’s clearly lost in thought; his dark eyes are glazed over, staring directly into the pool of water, and he’s unmoving in his space. His face is blank, devoid of any emotion, save for the slight crease in his forehead and the knit in his eyebrows. From an outsider’s perspective, Iwaizumi would simply be another soul lost in space, but Yuutarou’s two months of constantly being around his new teammates has shown him the little habits in each of them (Watari chews on his fingernails and yet his nails are never damaged, Yahaba bites his lips until they bleed and when they do, he starts on the inside of his mouth, Oikawa’s hands are never at rest, always fluttering like a butterfly, Matsukawa doesn’t blink as much as an average human, resulting in his regular dead man stare, Hanamaki cracks his knuckles, wrists, neck, _ everything). _

And Iwaizumi? Well, Iwaizumi’s eyebrows knit when he’s thinking hard, and his face wrinkles and creases with worry (Oikawa’s laughed at him more than once for it). The same knit is on his face now and it’s all too obvious that he has something on his mind.

“Iwaizumi-senpai?” Yuutarou ventures and the ace startles, before blinking back to reality to peer at him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you, uh…” His voice drifts off into a stutter and _ god, _he’s never been good with words either (that’s always been his best friend, Kunimi). “Do you have something on your mind? If you want you could...erm...talk to me about it?” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything; instead he just stares and stares and stares until Yuutarou breaks eye contact, thoughts flowing in his head: _ why did I say something, goddammit Yuu, why? _

“Oh shit, did I worry you?” Iwaizumi mumbles and it’s then Yuutarou brings his attention back to the vice captain. “Sorry, yeah, I could use someone to talk to right now. If that’s alright,” he adds.”

Yuutarou mentally releases a sigh of relief. “Yeah, go ahead, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi exhales and runs a hand through his short hair, seeming thoroughly stressed out. “It’s just...I’m really nervous for this year. The new season is barely starting, but it’s stressing out Oikawa because he doesn’t want to mess up as captain, and that’s stressing _ me _ out because that dumbass doesn’t know self care,” he grumbles and _ oh, _Yuutarou’s heart drops low. 

_ Of course it’s Oikawa. _

“He hasn’t been eating well, or sleeping, and he’s got himself banged up with his bad knee because he won’t _ stop practicing. _He’s obsessed with going to nationals before we graduate and I swear he’s going to kill himself before we even get close to Interhighs,” Iwaizumi continues. Another hand through hair, mussing the lazy spikes further. His bottom lip is chewed out, skin broken and chapped. 

Yuutarou fidgets as Iwaizumi begins to talk harsher, his voice raging like a tornado, until it eventually dies down to a dull roar, a tremor after an earthquake. Finally, he drops his face into his hands, his fingertips still tugging at the edges of his hair. 

“Fuck...I just--I don’t know what to _ do. _” His voice is agonized now, frenetic with crazed energy. “The coaches put me as vice captain because I’m able to rein in Oikawa and his stupidity, but I can barely get him to stop harming himself.”

“Iwaizumi-san,” Yuutarou starts and then stops, because he’s honestly at a loss for words. He wants to help his senpai, he really does, but he can’t talk to Oikawa and he certainly can’t give advice well. But, he wants to try, because the year is just starting and he can’t bear to see his vice captain so hassled at the start of the year (and it has nothing to do with the faint _ pitter-patter _of his heart when Iwaizumi’s around). 

“Iwaizumi-san, you should tell it to him straight. I believe you can help him; you’re the only one on the team who can.” He’s babbling now, words streaming out of his mouth in an incoherent mess, but he can’t stop it and neither does he want to. Iwaizumi looks too stricken and god, Yuutarou is begging that his undecipherable prattle is helpful, or calming in some strange way. “You’re the only one Oikawa-san will seriously listen to and he trusts you. You guys have been friends for a long time and there’s no way he wouldn’t disregard you like that. Just do what you normally do with him and I’m sure you both will be fine.”

He stops, mid-babble, and feels a flush of heat creep up his neck: Iwaizumi’s staring again, lips parted ever so slightly, and Yuutarou has to drag his eyes away from his lips. 

“Iwaizumi-senpai?” he prods and the ace shakes himself out of his daze, eyelids fluttering. 

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s been a long week, but thanks for talking to me, Kindaichi.” Iwaizumi gets to his feet, dusting off his already immaculate uniform pants and grabbing his bag next to him. “Well, I gotta head back and find Oikawa; Lord knows that dumbass is overworking again. I’ll actually stop him this time, though.” His lips turn upwards in the smallest of smiles and something stirs in Yuutarou’s chest when it’s directed towards him. “Thanks again. You really helped.”

“Of course,” he manages, and the smile grows bigger (it’s a punch to the gut and Yuutarou can no longer breathe). 

And then Iwaizumi is gone, away from Yuutarou and to Oikawa Tooru. It hurts, yes, hurts like a bitch, but Yuutarou had already expected to lose anyways.

— 

Yuutarou no longer hears the slam of volleyballs every lunch, nor sees the lights, bright in the evening shadows, when practice is long over. 

And later, It’s to no coincidence that Iwaizumi and Oikawa announce their relationship in the most subtle of ways. They’re not touching each other when they arrive in the clubroom, but their lips are equally swollen and their hair is messy and the silent jeers of Hanamaki and Matsukawa are telling enough.

— 

It’s a Tuesday evening when Yuutarou comes down to the pond. He’s brooding today, feeling despondent after a bad day at practice. His hands aren’t throbbing with the usual success of spikes, bleeding into his skin; he had, in fact, missed more than half his spikes, to both his and Oikawa’s frustration.

Oikawa’s tosses had been perfect, but Yuutarou had not been anywhere close, and he had failed. Again, again, again. He’s destined to lose forever, he thinks mournfully. Never be able to beat anyone or anything or even himself.

“I thought I might find you here.” 

Yuutarou’s head snaps up to meet Iwaizumi’s steady gaze and to his immense relief, his heart doesn’t jump into his throat as it normally had done. Instead, it’s a simple, numbing sting to the chest when Iwaizumi moves to sit down next to him. 

It’s surreal almost, a perfect parallel of their first meeting at the pond, for a silence had overtaken them. The crickets chirped in song in the fading light as the crescent moon rose into dominance, silver light gleaning down to earth. It’s not one a peaceful silence, instead being filled with a smokey tension that wrapped around them, choking like smog.

Iwaizumi’s the first to break the silence, his voice cutting through air.

“You’re welcome to talk to me,” he says gruffly, quietly. “I’m free to listen if you need me.” 

And god, Yuutarou really, really wants to fucking tell him. He wants to complain, to gripe about himself, his insecurities, because really, it’s no one else in his head but him. And so, with a gentle hand over his pounding heart, he spills it all. The words had stopped stabbing him like a knife, but it pricks like a needle nonetheless.

_ I’m useless. _

_ I can’t do anything right. _

_ I don’t deserve a regular spot. _

_ I’m a failure. _

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond immediately; instead, he stares down at the lake, thoughtful, considering Yuutarou’s spilled secrets. 

And then, he says, “You’re not any of that, you know. You shouldn’t think that way about yourself; you’re a lot more than you realize.” Iwaizumi offers him a kind smile, careful and comforting, and he finally drops a hand on Yuutarou’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you to stop hating yourself, Kindaichi. That’s something you’ll have to believe on your own. But I do think you can beat those demons in your brain; you’re a hell of a lot stronger than they are. You can beat them all,” Iwaizumi says, earnest and unwavering, and dear god, Yuutarou feels his words down to his core, and feels something awaken in his gut. 

“Thanks, senpai,” he says quietly and Iwaizumi nods in acknowledgment. 

“I have to go right now; I’m eating dinner with Oikawa and his family in fifteen, but I’ll check up on you tomorrow, alright?” The ace gets to his feet, his eyes dark and shining in the silver of the moon and Yuutarou’s stricken, terrified of the sudden surge of warmth in his chest. 

_ He’s got Oikawa, he’s got Oikawa. _

“Alright, have fun.”

Iwaizumi grins and salutes him, before turning on his heel and disappearing out of the brush. Yuutarou leaves soon after, and when he gets home, he releases a muffled scream.

— 

Iwaizumi’s check up is simply, “Are you winning?” 

“I’m trying,” he answers honestly and the vice captain’s nod is sharp. 

“That’s all I ask for.”

— 

Graduation for the third years comes after Spring Highs with much fanfare. There’s a lot of crying (Yuutarou’s admittedly one of them), and Yahaba is deigned the new captain, Kunimi the vice captain, by Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The exchange leaves Yahaba teary eyed, with a silent Kyoutani by his side, offering his quiet consolation. 

In the swarm of teammates and people, Yuutarou doesn’t notice Iwaizumi behind him and his touch startles him. 

“Whoa, hey, just me,” Iwaizumi says, hands up in a surrendering position. 

Yuutarou breathes a little easier this time, for the prickling had stopped (for the most part), and his heart doesn’t jump twenty feet high into his throat. “Hey, Iwaizumi-san.”

Iwaizumi’s hands are shoved into his pockets, eyes slightly downcast, but then he finally meets Yuutarou’s eyes, his gaze unyielding. 

“You’re going to do great next year,” he says. “New ace.” 

_ Ace. _The words send a strange buzz down Yuutarou’s spine and he feels himself glow at the compliment. 

“I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations!”

“I don’t expect anything else.” Iwaizumi’s grin is wry and he looks away from Yuutarou, attention landing on Oikawa with Kyoutani. They’re talking, to Yuutarou’s surprise, and even more shocking, Kyoutani is nodding along. 

“Looks like they get along now,” he comments softly, and it doesn’t escape the elder ace. 

“I think they’ve always respected each other,” Iwaizumi says idly. “Better make sure Oikawa isn’t like, threatening him or anything.”

And just like that, he’s gone again. Away from Yuutarou’s side, and he never comes back afterwards.

— 

Second year rolls on Yuutarou like a rolling pin to dough. He’s slightly overwhelmed by his schoolwork and volleyball, and dealing with the pressure of being a regular, and the end ties the old third years left behind. 

He doesn’t expect the disappearance of Iwaizumi and the others to affect the team as much, except it does and the realization comes crashing down, because the burdens they left is heavy. Yahaba, he can tell, is going to crack under the pressure, but he’s lucky he’s got his new friendship with Kyoutani. They’re closer after Spring Highs last year, and Yuutarou suspects something blossoming between them, but he decides to hold his tongue; it’s their business.

And then there’s Kunimi. See, Yuutarou is completely of what to do with Kunimi, and yet not entirely sure at the same time. Kunimi has been with him since middle school, his best friend and partner in volleyball and yet…

Second year has dragged them so far apart that Yuutarou doesn’t think he can repair their old, middle school friendship. If it hadn’t been for Kunimi’s promotion to vice captain, he doesn’t think he ever would’ve reached out at all. 

But he knows Kunimi enough to see his breaking point and such signs, and it’s after practice on a Thursday that he waits afterwards for his friend. 

“Yo,” Yuutarou greets lamely when Kunimi appears on the steps, because he hadn’t entirely prepared his speech to his old friend.

Kunimi blinks at him, obviously surprised, but he nods in acknowledgement. “Hey. You need something?”

Kunimi’s nothing but blunt.

“You looked stressed lately—

“No shit.”

“And I was wondering if you wanted to talk it out. Maybe I could help?” It comes out more of a question, and Kunimi’s narrowed eyes relaxes by a fraction.

“Alright. Walk with me,” he says, and Yuutarou obliges.

—

He and Kunimi begin something new, a friendship for high school second years, and Yuutarou’s friendship somehow finds its way back to that stupid, shitty thing, known as a crush. 

Why Kunimi, he’s not entirely sure, but he finds himself watching Kunimi’s nimble fingers against the volleyball, Kunimi’s idle, lazy grins on the corner of his mouth, Kunimi’s dark eyes, analytical and sharp. 

Where his senpai crush on Iwaizumi was something akin to a flame, a sturdy, tethering flame, his crush on Kunimi is like a river, quick to come and crashing at such a thrill. Yuutarou doesn’t know why he feels this way, only that he does, and it burns his skin every time he’s around his friend. 

But despite his close friendship with Kunimi, his sudden, newfound crush on the new vice captain, he never takes him anywhere close to the pond. 

—

Yuutarou sees Iwaizumi first, on a fall day. The trees around them had begun to turn gold and red, falling like flames, and the world burns quicker when Iwaizumi turns to meet his starre.

“Iwaizumi-san?!” Yuutarou yelps and it’s all in slow deja vu: he’s falling again, over his own feet because he’s clumsy and in no way graceful, and Iwaizumi is staring again, except his eyes are a lot brighter than before. Yuutarou manages to catch himself and steady his feet to the ground, before he can properly form another sentence. “What are you doing here?”

Iwaizumi shrugs lightly, his shoulders lifting slightly before dropping. “Thinking. As usual. And you?”

He mirrors Iwaizumi. “Same.”

The elder nods and Yuutarou settles next to him. They’re a little more comfortable around each other, and there’s no taste of awkwardness in the air as they sit in silence, watching the leaves fall. 

“Oikawa and I broke up,” Iwaizumi says abruptly and the shock slams Yuutarou in the face.

_ “What?!” _he gasps, ignoring the sudden spike in his heart rate. “When?!”

Iwaizumi shrugs again, listlessly. “Just recently. It wasn’t too bad; just over college and shit. He didn’t believe in long distance.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Yuutarou mumbles, and the old ace shakes his head. 

“Don’t be. I had a feeling that it was going to happen anyways.”

Yuutarou doesn’t ask how or why and Iwaizumi doesn’t elaborate further. He takes that opportunity to talk about himself, filling the air with his own empty story.

“I had a crush on Kunimi and I told him,” he says out loud and through his peripheral view, he catches sight of Iwaizumi’s head snapping to him.

“Since when?” he demands. “What happened?”

“Kind of recently,” Yuutarou admits. “And got rejected. We’re still friends though.”

The last sentence relaxes Iwaizumi, and he settles back into his seat. “That’s good at least. It won’t be awkward.”

“Yeah.”

The silence is even more comfortable than before and they don’t say anymore, simply basking in each other’s company. And when they finally bade each other goodbye, Yuutarou feels lighter than before, as if some of the weight had been lifted off his back and he knows that it shows in his face. And honestly? He couldn’t care less.

—

Iwaizumi leaves for college soon after their meeting, and it leaves Yuutarou a little emptier than he expects. 

(He knows it was going to happen, but he doesn’t think it would leave him feeling this way.)

— 

The year passes, without much fanfare. Aoba Johsai doesn’t make it to nationals after Spring Highs and Yahaba passes the torch onto Kunimi, with Yuutarou at his side as his vice. Their relationship hadn’t changed too much after Yuutarou’s confession, but Kunimi keeps him at an arm’s length (and maybe a little more). 

It doesn’t hurt as much as he expects, Kunimi’s distance, because after his final encounter with Iwaizumi, he knows that’s waiting, pining really, for much more than his former middle school best friend. 

Iwaizumi’s absence had left a dull ache in Yuutarou, one that he couldn’t really heal, and he finds himself surprisingly alright with that; although he’s long since fought his demons and won, he’s accepted that the wounds he had post war would forever stay, and Iwaizumi’s wound was one of them. He would forever ache for Iwaizumi Hajime, and he accepts that. 

Yuutarou had returned to the pond over the passing of his second year, alone and without Iwaizumi, but he returns with hope each time. Maybe he would be there when he comes. Maybe they would talk again, laugh again. Maybe Yuutarou could finally muster the courage to tell Iwaizumi how he really feels after all these years. 

But in Yuutarou’s second year, Iwaizumi never comes back.

And so brings him to the summer of his third year, his final year at Aoba Johsai. Yuutarou carries himself a little higher now (he’s going to be a senpai, an upperclassman, and he needs to walk like he’s one), but there’s a gravitational tug in his chest that yanks him firmly down. He doesn’t know what it is, or how to fight the pull, and he alternates between head-held-high good days and slacking-shoulders bad days. 

It’s definitely a bad day when he heads to the pong, as he always does. The summer is stifling this year, sticky and sweaty and physically draining, and dear god, Yuutarou wants to collapse by the pond and take a long fucking nap. 

But there’s someone at the pond when he arrives, skin dark from a tan, with broad shoulders and spiky hair and it’s on the tip of his tongue to make him leave when he realizes—

“Iwaizumi-san?”

Broad shoulders rise up from the side of the pond and turn towards him. It _ is _ Iwaizumi, and suddenly, Yuutarou’s heart is pummeling the side of his chest, breaking from his ribs. _ God, why does he look so much better than before? _

But Yuutarou knows why: he’s broader than before, more muscular, and he’s slightly taller than before. His skin is tanned from the sun, and he’s beautiful in the afternoon light, all bronzed like a Greek god. 

“Kindaichi,” the Greek god breathes, and shit, if that husky voice doesn’t send a tremor down his spine. “God, fuck, I had a feeling, but…”

“You’re here.” _ And nothing else matters, except for that. “ _I didn’t think...shit. I didn’t think you were coming back.”

Iwaizumi shrugs, his shoulders lifting in his short sleeve, and god, Kindaichi really wants to fucking touch him. “College keeps me busy.” 

He’s trying for nonchalance, Yuutarou realizes. But three years of false bravado and reading expressions makes Yuutarou an expert on observation and through Iwaizumi’s dark, dark eyes, there's disquiet, a chained back impatience and slight fondness. 

And so, Yuutarou throws all caution out the window and runs to his old senpai, crushing him in a hug, Iwaizumi responds in kind, and for a moment, they hold each other. The air around them is silent, and yet abuzz with anticipation. It doesn’t break when Yuutarou releases Iwaizumi, and they take their regular seats at the edge of the pond. 

It’s not like any other time they’ve been here together, Yuutarou can feel that much--every time he had stolen a glance at Iwaizumi, he’s found him looking back, eyes soft with an emotion he can’t place (and every glance steals a little piece of Yuutarou’s heart, because god fuck, it’s Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi is goddamn gorgeous in every way, kind and giving, and steady like the earth, and he tethers Yuutarou’s heart pieces back to earth, before it flew too far). 

“Iwaizumi..._ Hajime.” _Yuutarou tests the name out on his tongue, and he hears the sharp intake of breath from the elder ace. 

“Yeah, _ Yuutarou?” _

(Could his name sound anymore beautiful?)

He smiles at the sound of his given name. “I have so much to tell you.”

And Iwaizumi listens, listens to his second year tales and upperclassman insecurities and misgivings, and somehow, they’ve shifted close enough for their fingers to be touch, breaths intermingling. At some point, Iwaizumi rests his hand on top of Yuutarou’s, sending a spike in his heartbeat and a flush on his skin. 

By the time Yuutarou finishes his story, Iwaizumi is almost upon him, his eyes soft with absolute adoration, fingers intertwined in the grass, and when he finally, _ finally _leans in to kiss him, Yuutarou doesn’t hesitate in responding.

—

The atmosphere sings around them, and the pond is still. 

* * *

_ how we feel is hard to fake, but my heart won’t stop skipping when you look at me like that. _

**Author's Note:**

> a commission piece for the wonderful Lozza!! thanks so much for requesting this piece :D i had a great time writing it!! 
> 
> \--
> 
> scream at/with me here (or send commission requests!): [tumblr](https://kiroiimye.tumblr.com/) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/kiroiimye)
> 
> a song that inspired the title: [please don't say you love me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gb3tL_U4az8)


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